


grips mass, rips light

by CallicoKitten



Category: Secret History - Donna Tartt
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, this doesn't really have a plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-26
Updated: 2014-09-26
Packaged: 2018-02-18 19:39:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2359871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CallicoKitten/pseuds/CallicoKitten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Henry lives.</p><p>It's quite miraculous, actually, surviving two bullets to the brain is something almost unheard of but then, Richard's not sure why he ever thought Henry would make something like dying simple.</p>
            </blockquote>





	grips mass, rips light

**Author's Note:**

> this is self indulgent bullshit that i don't have the imagination or talent to do justice
> 
> i cut it short before it went down the richard/henry route which i never really shipped until my friend told me she imagined they'd be a little like keiren and simon from in the flesh
> 
> title from alt-j's taro

Henry lives.

It's quite miraculous, actually, surviving two bullets to the brain is something almost unheard of but then, Richard's not sure why he ever thought Henry would make something like dying simple. 

"They are unsure of how much damage there'll be," Francis tells him dryly. "They say he may not even be able to talk."

Richard snorts inelegantly, "Henry would hate that."

"That he would."

-

Richard visits him the first day the nurses allow him out of bed. He's not entirely sure he _wants_ to see Henry or rather, the husk that once was Henry ( _it's not looking good,_ Francis had told him, expression unreadable. _They're doubtful he'll make a full recovery._ ) or if he just feels _obliged_ to be there, as though Henry will be disappointed if he isn't.

(Though, he reflects, Henry would probably be endlessly embarrassed by this whole thing.)

He stands over Henry's bed (the room is mercifully empty, Camilla and Henry's mother must have retired for the moment at least) and watches his chest rise and fall slowly. Most of his dark hair has been shaved off and in its place are angry red scars. His fists seem clenched on the bedsheets.

 _Oh, Henry_ , Richard thinks.

He's not sure if it's sympathy or pity, or perhaps merely the grim reminder that Henry is, in fact, simply human like the rest of them, as young as they all are. 

-

He wonders, late at night when the world outside is quiet but the hospital around him is alive with light and noise, whether this was all part of Henry's plan. Did he plan to live? Did he miscalculate? Cause more damage than he'd intended? Or was this all a mistake?

Did he really intend to die when he picked up that pistol?

-

"Maybe it would have been better if he had," Francis says, one evening over a game of cards. The nurses have given up trying to make Francis leave on time and Richard is grateful for it. "Died, I mean."

Richard is unsure of how to respond to that so he says nothing.

"He killed that man," Francis says quietly, "He killed Bunny."

Richard sighs, " _We_ killed Bunny."

-

The day he's released from the hospital he visits Henry again, this time he finds his mother who offers him a weak smile and tells him that they're in the process of transferring Henry back home to Missouri and that Richard is welcome to visit him anytime and if Richard leaves an address she'll write to him with the hospital details.

Richard finds it hard to look her in the eye. Henry's eyes, he thinks.

She leaves him to say goodbye and Richard stands for a few minutes, looking down at Henry still and unresponsive on the bed. This is probably the part where he's meant to say something witty, a quote maybe, something suited to Henry but try as he might he can't find that feels right.

In the end he doesn't say anything.

-

Henry wakes up during Richard's final week, to his surprise it's Camilla who calls him. He hasn't heard from her much, her letters had trailed off around the time that she had given up and gone back home with Charles who, Francis had told Richard, had soon run off with an older woman. 

"He's awake," she'd said, voice laden with something Richard could never identify. There was weariness there, weariness and sorrow but anticipation too. "Francis has gone down there; I'm to fly down at the weekend."

Henry has hung heavily on his mind all term, "How is he?"

Camilla exhales slowly on the other end of the line and Richard can picture her delicately lowering the cigarette from her mouth, tapping the excess ash away, "Not well," she says eventually and then, slightly uncertainly, "Will you come?"

Richard finds himself unable to resist.

-

They plan to get a hotel room, they have enough for a week if they put their money together but Henry's mother insists that they stay at their home. Francis meets them there, pale, slightly shaky and haunted, leads them up to their rooms. Richard will be sharing with him, Camilla will be across the hall. Henry's mother is at the hospital, he tells them, he's only allowed one visitor at a time. 

"We're not to crowd him," he explains, "He's - He's rather _delicate_."

Richard finds it hard to marry the images of _Henry_ and _delicate_ together and he says this quietly. 

"You'll see," Francis says. "Mrs Winter should be back soon, there should be time for one more visitor."

-

Richard has no qualms about letting Camilla go first, in fact, he has begun to dread seeing Henry, seeing what is left of Henry. Mrs Winter returns and Camilla insists on getting a cab to the hospital, on going alone which Richard is grateful for because he will at least have Francis to keep him company. They eat and Mrs Winter ask Richard about his family, about his studies.

"Henry told me quite a bit about you, you know," she says, eyes slightly teary. Richard has to look away, he feels a certain guilt about this whole thing, as though he should have tried to stop this. Not that he has any illusions that he, or anyone else for that matter, could do anything to stop Henry. Perhaps Julian, he thinks and wonders briefly whether Julian has trouble sleeping now, whether he goes over everything that happened again and again in his mind.

Somehow, he doubts it.

-

Camilla returns late that night, unshed tears glittering in her eyes. She sits on the bed that Richard has been given and sips at the wine Francis has conjured up from somewhere. "He's not Henry," she says, voice slightly raw. She takes a shaky breath. "He kept asking where Bunny was."

She falls asleep on Richard's bed and Francis soon follows suit. Richard tosses and turns for hours before he gives up on sleep and ventures out into the dark hallway. The Winter's home is huge and ornate, nothing like the flashy modern look of the Corcoran's home. Here and there he finds photos of Henry as a boy, a few from before the accident show Henry with an open face, a warm smile. It's disconcerting and Richard finds himself wondering what kind of person Henry would have been had he not had his accident.

He stumbles upon what must have been Henry's childhood room. It is just as sparse as his bedroom back in Hampden, a neatly made bed and more books than there are in Richard's entire house. He sits on the bed and tries to imagine being trapped in here for months on end with only books to keep you company.

At some point he falls asleep, wakes up to Francis standing over him, "Are you ready? I thought we'd go to see him after breakfast."

 _No_ , Richard thinks. 

-

He dawdles for as long as he can after Francis leaves him, visits the gift shop and spends as much time as he can picking out flowers, wondering whether or not to get a card. He talks to the nurse at the front desk of Henry's ward for a while, spends an inordinate amount of time in the men's room. 

_What if he doesn't remember me?_

_What if he does?_

Francis had explained that his memory had been affected, that he'd thought initially he was recovering from the car accident that had befallen him as a boy. Richard has no idea what to expect and there is part of him that wants to leave. Henry, he thinks, the old Henry, would understand. Richard is sure now that Henry intended to die when he pulled that trigger, there is no chance that Henry had wanted to live on as half a man. 

Henry is in a private room and, when Richard finally steps into it, he almost immediately steps back out. It's like coming face to face with a ghost. 

His hair has grown back in, his spectacles sit on the bridge of his nose and a translated copy of _Homer's Odyssey_ sits in his hands.

It takes him a few moments to recover, to notice how Henry's brow is furrowed in concentration as he mouths the words to himself, how it is a _translated_ copy, how Henry's right hand trembles slightly. 

He takes a step forward and Henry looks up. They stare at each other for a very long time and Richard thinks (hopes) that Henry has no idea who he is but then a cool smile slides into place and Henry says, "Hullo, Richard."

And Richard feels something strangely akin to relief.


End file.
